


trace the lines of her mind

by mollivanders



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-25
Updated: 2010-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:11:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/pseuds/mollivanders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the spaces between war and classes, Luna creates (she builds).</p>
            </blockquote>





	trace the lines of her mind

**Author's Note:**

> **Title: trace the lines of her mind**  
>  Fandom: _Harry Potter_  
>  Rating: PG  
> Characters: Luna Lovegood  
> Summary: For LadyFest '10, prompt - a poet's spirit.. Original post [here](http://ineffort.livejournal.com/199061.html?thread=4162709#t4162709).  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

In the spaces between war and classes, Luna creates (she builds).

There are piles of misshapen jewelry in her desk drawers, tiny figurines of mythical creatures on turntables, torn scraps of paper transformed by doodles pinned to the wall. Scattered.

The poetry, she keeps safe, in one place.

She carries it around with her and when she writes, the words themselves feel happy and light-footed, as though this place of hate and destruction cannot touch the imaginary land she lives in. Luna thinks she is the only one who would be amused by such a thought (like so many others she has).

War always comes to interrupt her joy, but the lines are tucked away in the book, untarnished and secure in her coat pocket. She’s learned a thing or two from Hermione (about books, and boys, and spells).

But the verses are more than just thoughts; they make her days mean more. In a castle ruled by death and torture, Luna knows she has something beautiful and worthwhile. In her own way, she makes sense of the world in that book. She shares it with no one – they all have her trinkets, her paintings, her costumes. This is for her alone. Her life and time are still hers.

And then the Death Eaters take her on the train.

She knows she’s supposed to be frightened, terrified even, but she just stares at the hooded figures through glassy eyes and dreamily asks them why they bother. She _is_ scared – she just doesn’t know what good it will do.

The only thing they take from her is the book. Bella and Draco come to visit her, mock her with her own words, and Luna knows it’s supposed to hurt. She feels Mr. Ollivanders’ eyes on her, waiting for her to break so he’s not so alone but Luna can’t help it, just stares Draco down and waits for him to finish talking. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying.

The words speak for themselves, after all, and if he can’t see that, it’s his loss. She knows a thing or two about _that_ , and this is nothing in comparison.

A tiny part of her smirks with pride when he falters, doesn’t know how to respond to her and the way she studies him, ignoring her own words. They move on to cursing her, torturing her and it’s a fire in her skin and bones but Luna inhales, exhales, clenches and shudders but doesn’t scream (recites her own words back to herself, a mantra of survival).

But one day, when she wakes, she sees the book returned, a pen slipped between the pages. Luna doesn’t write anything in the cell, doesn’t record the days, and doesn’t give any satisfaction. She doesn’t know how, but she knows it’s what they want (to understand her).

Luna never understood what was so hard to grasp about another if one knew oneself, so she shrugs and waits. Harry’s coming, she can feel it.

Eventually, he does. 

She writes that part down.

_Finis_


End file.
